


Belle and the Beasts

by StormsInMyCoffee



Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, Animal Transformation, Beauty - Freeform, Dark Magic, Disney References, Drama & Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Hot, Humor, Love, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Magical Realism, New love, Passion, Romance, Sexy, Spells & Enchantments, True Alpha, True Love, Wolves, beast mode, smirky, woods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2020-09-08 04:23:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20309215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormsInMyCoffee/pseuds/StormsInMyCoffee
Summary: "This is heat." He inched closer and felt her soft breath on his lips. "This is desire." His was so near now and she didn't pull away. His thoughts became foggy."This is passion." He whispered.- In this dark, romantic fantasy tale, Belle must decide between a man who would die to protect her and a beast that will never let her go. Hope you enjoy and I look forward to your thoughts!





	1. Prologue

Prologue:

There were wolves in the night. Their steps fell silent in the snow. They prowled, noses to the ground.

The scent drew them. Blood and sweat_. _They could taste it. The tongues in their mouths salivated and rolled forward through their teeth. The pack moved as one. Together they hunted and together they would feast.

But the tender flesh, the most delicate bite, was for the creature.

Tempting though it was, none of the young wolves would dare challenge the enormous black beast that led them. It would be tougher hide for them, aged flesh in leather wrapping. The meat was not quite as sweet, but it would do to fill a cold belly.

The smell grew stronger and the young wolves became delirious in anticipation. They moved more quickly, bounding through the snow with abandon, prancing in excitement. They fell into each other, pushing to be first, to have the first kill.

The dark beast paused. The young wolves fell behind, heads hung low, as the alpha emitted a dark guttural rumble. The pack silenced in quiet submission as they arrived at their destination.

There, alone in a patch of snow and surrounded by the looming forest, sat a red coach. It was mangled and leaning slightly to the left. A broken wheel slanted beneath it and the door hung from the hinges. A delicious scent escaped from within.

Blood, sweat, tender flesh, and fear. The fear smelled the sweetest. So close now.

The black beast crept forward. His heavy body hung low to the ground. The only sound in the dark forest was his hot exhale of eager breath.

As his body tensed and prepared to leap, a sound pierced the silence of the trees. It was a single man. It stood in lumbering arrogance and attempted to deter him.

A challenge, though not much of one, presented itself in the form of meat-meal bound in borrowed fur and grasping a metal stick. The tall man stunk of rotten fruit and vines. It wavered on its hind legs, quivering like an injured pup. Not much of a challenge at all. The dark beast snorted and left the pathetic creature for his pack. Turning his head, he gave consent for the attack and moved his eyes back to his prize within the red wooden coach.

He barely heard the cries and crunches behind him as his pack enjoyed their reward. _Let them eat first_. His was not a meal to gorge on. He would savor it. Sample it. Play with it. In the end, he would be satiated, momentarily, until the hunger returned.

A muffled cry from inside the coach drew him on. He moaned and pushed aside the wooden door with a swing of his head. His growl was menacing and low. It rang just loud enough for those within to hear. The spicy musk of fear spiked and caressed his nostrils. The dark beast inhaled deeply.

A soft voice from within mumbled something that he could not understand. He did, however, recognize the panic in the sound. How long had it been since he had felt those feelings? _Distant, distant, gone._ They no longer existed for him. Like other emotions, they were gone for eternity.

He was ready now. With a mighty thrust, he slammed into the tiny space. His eyes did not need to adjust. They were perfect for the hunt. He instantly saw his prey. The bundle in the corner lay silent. The dark one licked a drop of saliva from his muzzle. His eagerness rose and he forgot the soft voice from before.

A stinging pain at his shoulder brought him to a halt. A sharp stick, _knife_, he thought, protruded from his shaggy black fur. He felt the blood run down his side. The dark one turned and stared at the weapon and the hand that still held it.

A female. She shook and the sticky red liquid slide into her fingers and ran down her arm. She stared at him with wide eyes.

She was obviously weak. The dark one's blood was not the only blood on her. Her legs were caked in it and a puddle formed at her feet as she stood crouched over in the limited space.

She had just birthed. The black beast could sense it on her, as he could with the she-wolves in their den. The air was rich with her fragrance. She smelled of fluids and flowers.

He wondered at her flavor. His teeth bared as he lunged for her.

She tasted warm.

With his tongue still tingling from the mother, the dark beast came back to the child.

_ Finally _ .

The babe was silent and for a moment the creature feared it had died. Cold flesh would not do. He pushed his face into its side, rocking it violently. It did not move. The black beast snarled and sniffed the tiny thing. It smelled so innocent. He breathed out. This time the air from his lung misted heavily on the tiny baby's face.

It moved. The child, newly birthed in its mother's grave, let out a piercing cry.

Its arms swung wildly. Its fists beat as if in retaliation. The dark one let out a surprised and amused grunt as little fingers clamped into his fur, pulling with surprising strength.

He should have bitten then. He should have tasted the tiny creature who was so like himself, fighting from birth. He should have swallowed him down and let him rest balmy in his belly. But he allowed himself a second to wonder. Just a second to feel his ill-tempered feast's fingers gripping his fur.

It was a second too long.

Men had come. They clambered down upon the forest in great numbers. He could hear.

_ Foul men, arrogant men. _

A moment later the creature saw them. They aimed pointy things at him. Not teeth but just as sharp. Held at long lengths. They jabbed at him. He scrambled away.

Reluctantly he glanced at the child. It still cried. It still fisted the air. He wanted it.

He made a dive in its direction but sharp pricks stabbed through his fur and made contact with his flesh. He growled and bit at it. His razor-teeth chomped on man meat. He tasted one, two, and ripped skin from bone. He licked his triumph from his scarlet stained muzzle. His claws slammed at another, shredding its bindings and flesh.

_ Weak men, stupid men _ .

They came one after another, rocking the coach onto its side. The beast had his feast. Not on the flesh of the babe but on the weathered meat of man. When no more came to stop him, he turned from the carnage. His evil eyes gazed back to the resting place of the child. But he was there no more. Enraged, the beast reared on its hindquarters and howled. Tearing through the pile of viscera and bone, he searched.

The child was gone.

When he emerged from the massacre of the coach, the beast landed in one of a different sort. His pack lay upon the red snow. Each one was dead. The air was putrid and already gave the odor of decay. The young wolves, though powerful even in their dead sleep, were all defeated by man.

The dark beast took one last glance at the scene, snorted, and then kicked the snow with his back paws.

_ Feeble pack, conceited men _ .

He would wipe them from his mind just as the snow would wipe the crimson stains from his fur. No more thought was given to either as he made his trek back home. His mind was busy elsewhere. His thoughts became consumed with madness.

The forest saw the birth of an obsession that night. During his long run through the branches, the dark one labored in his mind. It was an idea. A plan. Instead of life, he would bring forth death. He would bring dominance. He would never be denied again. His thoughts raced back to his prize.

_ The child _ , he thought. His tiny fist rising. His cries in the night._ The child. _His flesh untasted._ The child._

_ Mine. _


	2. New and a Bit Alarming

_All castles have ghosts_, the boy decided. _They are drawn to the shadows and bloody past._

His castle, deep in the secluded woods, was no different, and he knew he was never completely alone within its thick walls and darkened rooms.

A presence was always with him, following him. A being that caused the hair on his arms to spike and his breath to catch in his throat. It was as real as the moonbeams streaming through the tower windows. Adam couldn't see it. He couldn't name it. He merely hoped. _Could it be? Was it them?_

Never a fearful child, he sought it out. On the darkest nights he would wander. A single flame lit his way through the endless corridors and empty chambers.

He searched for the souls of his parents.

If it was dark enough he believed he might feel them graze his skin as he made his way, room after room.

_Ghosts always come home_, the boy told himself as he searched all of the obvious spots for a haunting.

He scoured the inside of his castle first; the red study with the animal heads on the walls, the enormous library with its infinite corners and stairways. Then he traveled outdoors, stumbling in the night through the leafy overgrown hedge maze of the greensward.

The boy had no success.

Finally, in desperation, he decided to go directly to the place he had always avoided. He ventured into the far edges of the castle to the west wing and the private rooms of his parents.

The forbidden apartments had not been disturbed for eleven years. The air in the space was dense and heavy. No footprints spoiled the perfect layer of dust upon the cold marble floor. The boy shivered and pulled the sash tighter on his long gold robe.

In the center of the room stood an enormous four post bed shielded by heavy velvet drapes. A forgotten waistcoat lay flung over a brown leather chair and a vase holding a single dead rose sat on a table by the balcony.

Adam held his breath and stepped into the sacred space. His feet rubbed silently across the dusty marble and left a trail behind him. He scanned the room with hungry eyes.

_It had been theirs, _he thought, awestruck_. _He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what they looked like. He try to conjure up their faces but it didn't work. Giving up, Adam opened his eyes.

A gown hanging by an armoire caught his attention and his fingers itched to touch its softness. Reaching over, Adam let his small palm slide down the front of the voluminousness skirt. It was smooth and stiff. The green satin fabric glimmered in the candlelight. He closed his eyes and pulled it closer, burying his face in its folds. He inhaled the faint, lingering scent of time. The moldy fragrance tickled his nose and Adam began to pick up another aroma. It was subtle, like a gentle breeze from the gardens. He couldn't place it. He had never learned it. _Her scent_, he guessed. He tried to name it._ Flowers? A spice, perhaps?_ It evaded him. His chest tightened threateningly and the boy pushed the gown away.

_She wasn't here. She would never be here. He was a stupid boy chasing ghosts when all that was left were things. _More_ things_. His thoughts raced. He yanked at the dress and dropped it to the floor.

Heaving deep shaky breaths, Adam spun around the room. _Things everywhere, _his mind screamed. A black flame of anger built within his small body and he exploded in a fury of grief.

Even as an adult Adam would not remember what happened next. The child found himself standing in the wake of chaos. It appeared that nothing had survived his temper.

Paintings were thrown and shredded. Fabrics were torn into pieces. Bottles of strongly smelling perfumes pooled on the marble. The furniture lay broken and the kerosene lamps were smashed. All were destroyed. As Adam's anger left him, he fell to his knees, careless of the glass that dug into his skin.

Time passed unnoticed. When he finally lifted his head the morning light was streaming through the window. Adam blinked as something caught his eye. Despite all the devastation of the room, the table by the balcony still stood. He climbed to his feet and he stumbled over to it. There, in a ray of sunlight, standing proudly were the queen had left it, was the rose.

The boy's fingers trembled as he reached for it. Then he quickly pulled back. He no longer trusted his own hands. Adam placed his palms on the table and let his chin drop to his chest. He didn't weep again. He never would. He had cried his last tear that night.

Instead, he began to speak. Not to his parents, they were gone. It was clear they had never come back to the son they had known so briefly.

No, he whispered to the thing that _was_ there.

He still felt the being hovering around him. It was the thing that had always been there, watching his steps, counting his breaths. The thing that he spoke to in his dreams and in his lonely waking hours.

In a voice that held little evidence of his tender age, Adam growled, "You are no longer welcome here. Leave now." And when he still sensed the presence, like a humming vibration, he roared at the top of his lungs, "Get out!"

There was a pause, then he felt the warmth seep from the room and Adam had his first moments of true silence. The creature was gone.

For the first time in his life, Adam was completely alone.

* * *

Ten years passed since the day he bid the entity to depart. Adam never felt its presence again. If he missed the company or felt its loss, he never spoke of it. He had become a different creature that morning. His boyhood days were over.

Adam took to his duties proficiently. The kingdom had a strong and powerful ruler again, one like they had not known since the deaths of his parents, their beloved king, and queen.

Adam held a firm hand on all aspects of his domain, from diplomatic dealings with foreign lands to the amount of wheat in the mills. His mind became sharp through constant reading and his wit grew quick. No man, not his generals or council, could better him in strategy or skill.

As a ruler, he was fair yet unsympathetic. His justice was swift and absolute. It spread quickly throughout the land that certain offenses would not be tolerated and whispers were spoken of dungeons in which no one returned. Most villagers avoided the castle if they could. A person did not go to the prince's domain willingly.

Until someone did.

The night was stormy and the rain beat so violently it caused the towering windows to shake. The prince walked the floors in silence.

The wolves were howling in the woods. Sleep escaped Adam on such nights and his body felt more alert and awake than it had in days. Instead of sleeping, the prince paced the palace halls. His staff was down for the night. Even his tireless butler Cogsworth would be asleep. The rooms were empty but outside the windows Adam could see the guards at their post by the gate.

The prince placed a warm palm on the rain-splattered glass and felt it vibrate beneath his fingers. His brow furrowed slightly. Adam shook his head and turned away. A moment later he jerked in surprise as a loud banging beat upon the castle door.

_Who would be out on such a night and who could get past his guard? _He wondered with a frown.

Prince Adam stalked to the heavy wood and metal door and yanked it open. An old woman, bent and wrinkled, stood before him. She was cloaked in black and leaned weakly on her walking stick. Even in the dark rain, he could sense her weariness.

"Sir, may I sit? May I sit a spell by your fire?" The old crone croaked in a voice worn by age.

The prince paused. There was a slight prickle under his skin, as though his body was warning him that something was amiss. Then he felt an unnatural warmth fill his chest and he instantly, unwillingly, put a hand under the woman's bony arm and guided her inside.

"What is the meaning of this? Old mother, what brings you out on such a night?" Adam pulled her through the door and into the castle's dark hall. The servants had left a fire blazing in foyer and he gently steered her in that direction.

"Come, sit by the fire. Are you hungry?" Adam asked, noting the way the crone swayed on her feet as they passed ornate threshold. The immense room was dark, with only a single fireplace out of four burning, but it was warm and oddly cozy. The prince motioned for the old woman to sit on one of the plush velvet and mahogany seats but she smiled slightly and limped over to the fire.

"I am never hungry, Beast." She waved a wrinkled hand over her shoulder and turned to look upon his face. A light had come into her eyes.

Adam looked down at this name, confused.

"Beast? You know me not..." Began the prince.

"Now a prince, tomorrow a beast, never to tame, always the same." The crone sang-spoke, shaking her stick at him. Her skin stretched across her cheekbones as her smile spread. The prince blinked in surprise as her cracked lips parted over perfect white teeth.

"You are tired. Sleep here for the night. My servants will prepare a room." Adam turned to ring the bell hanging on the wall but the old lady stopped him, again in the strange singing tone.

"Never to sleep, never to weep, never to tame, always the same." She paused and tapped the bewildered prince with her stick. The handle hit the solid muscle of his shoulder and sent a vibrant shock down his arm. His fingers twitched and he flexed them out at his sides. The prince stared hard at the woman.

There was something false about her. The grasp on her stick was too strong. The burning of her eyes were too brilliant. Her cloak, now pushed off of her head, revealed thick blonde hair. All this was strange indeed, but the thing that caught Adam's attention the most was the atmosphere around the woman. It crackled with electricity and made the hair on his arms spike and his breath catch.

A memory began to flutter in the back of his mind and the prince shook his head. Brightly colored images synced to the crashes of the lightning outside and the howling of the wolves grew quieter until they moaned like distant winds.

Adam couldn't stop the images that came to his mind.

It was his own face, though younger, with big blue eyes and the damnable gold ringlets his guardians had refused to cut. He saw himself screaming into an empty room. Screaming for _something_ to leave.

He knew instantly who she was.

"Why have you returned?" The prince questioned low. He took a stride forward. The old woman simply watched him as he moved closer.

She smiled at him and let out a soft, girlish laugh as he took another heavy step.

"Your facade is slipping. Show me your true self, creature." Adam demanded deeply.

"Creature, am I?" The old woman chuckled, knocking her stick to the ground with a thump. She lifted her arms and whispered something too low for the prince to hear. When she dropped her hands to her sides, the air burst and sparked. An amber hue lit the room as all four fireplaces flamed to life.

Adam squinted in the sudden light, blinking at the old crone.

But she was no longer there. Gone were the black cloak and wrinkles. Gone was the haunting smile and weak frame. In their place was an angelic, golden robed vision whose beauty was as blinding as the burning fire. The prince blinked in the light that engulfed her. He had never seen such a spectacle and yet instead of feeling awed he felt his broad chest fill with anger.

The woman looked at him with pity.

"I am here to warn you. Another is coming. He tracks your blood." She paused and looked deeply into eyes filled with distrust. "He has for many years. When you no longer allowed me to watch over you, I went to him. To spy. To stand guard. But he sensed me. You beast often do. I could not stay."

Adam cursed under his breath. His temper was barely contained. "We beasts? Why do you persist in this? You know who I am."

"Now a prince, tomorrow a beast, never to tame, always the same." The beautiful woman sang softly in the sad, sweet voice. "I call you your name, Beast, as it shall be." She dropped her head and shook it in regret. "As it is already becoming."

"And what is _your_ name, creature?" The prince asked of her. He felt heat radiate off of her and the large room began to fill with sweltering currents of energy.

"I am just an enchantress. One of the hundreds who has watched over mankind, protecting them from the beings who would harm them. We defend man from Darkness and the servants that follow the treacherous path. We guard against the winged creatures of the sky and the monsters of the sea. We are the last line of defense between man and certain death. Or...", she paused, "we _were_." The woman's voice trailed off and she looked out of the long, rain-drenched window. Adam watched her intently, crossing his arms at his chest.

"Were?"

The enchantress did not look at him but continued to follow the rain.

"Were. But no longer. The dark beast, a servant of Darkness, destroyed them all, one by one, with his monstrous pack. I alone remain ." She turned to him suddenly, electricity bursting in her eyes. "And you, Beast."

Adam simply stared at her. For a moment no one spoke. The only sound was the storm, the wolves, and a faint buzzing. Then the prince shook his head slowly. The Enchantress turned to him and tilted her head slightly. Her long tendrils of spun gold fell down her shoulders and her expression filled with sadness.

"Yes, you." she spoke, barely above a whisper, "It was always to be you. It is your birthright. You were twice born, once by the blood of your mother and again by the breath of a monster. The creature searches for you still, and it will devour the world to find you, as it has devoured my people." The enchantress flashed her eyes at the prince as lightening struck against the windows. "As it devoured your mother."

The Enchantress was before him in an instant. Before her words could register with the prince, her hand lifted and Adam felt her hot fingertips on his forehead. The light which surrounded her embraced him as well, and he was once again in a vision.

_No, not a vision. I am there, _he thought as the cold of the snow melted into his house boots. _But where?_ Adam gazed around himself at the bleak forest. He knew the trees. They were from the forest that surrounded his castle. The prince turned his head sharply as the sound of wolves ripped through the silent branches.

A lone coach lay on the white banks. The wheels were askew and it was surrounded. The pack was attacking a tall, finely dressed man who was shaking with fear and wine. Adam knew that man. He had seen his image hanging from the walls of his home every day for the last twenty-one years.

"Father!" The prince called, racing forward. His body slammed hard against an invisible force that sent shocks of electricity through him. Adam sucked in a breath and threw himself against it again. He slammed it with a heavy shoulder and with hard fists. "Please! Please!" He called, but the Enchantress did not appear. The sounds of his father's scream were deafening and the prince fell to his knees in the snow.

Then he saw the creature. It was not a wolf or any other animal he had ever seen. It was a monster. Its long body moved like black tar. Every muscle rippled with strength. So shocked was Adam that he barely noticed they were both instantly transported to the inside of the carriage.

Looking over, he saw that a bloody woman had stabbed the creature. The massive beast stopped to stare at her quizzically. Then it pounced, teeth bared. Adam felt his heart stop. _No. No!_ He thought wildly. _Not her!_

No effort could reach her. Though the prince tried, he could only watch and fight against an invisible wall as his mother was devoured. Finally, his body beaten and exhausted, Adam slid to the blood-soaked carriage floor.

The beast then turned to a bundle in the corner. He stood over it, blood dripping from his snout, and pushed it forward roughly. _A child_, the prince thought, barely seeing the scene before him. "_Me."_

The evil creature growled and blow hot air into the infant's face. The baby within the bundle cried and swung its fist. The dark beast paused for a moment and examine the babe, then he flashed his massive teeth and prepared to bite. Instantly the image was gone. The enchantress had removed her touch and Adam stood immobilized. The Prince trembled with fury and shock. His body was clean of blood and snow, but his heart was drenched it.

"Your parents. Never to sleep, never to weep." The enchantress whispered.

After a long pause, Adam asked in a deep and deadly voice, "Where is this beast, enchantress?"

The enchantress examined the steel in the prince's startlingly blue eyes. She breathed out a sigh. Her gaze was filled with pity.

"You will meet him. He will come for you. For you all. There is no one left to stop him."

"I will stop him. My men and I will stop him." The prince had inherited the massive height of his father and the aristocratic beauty of his mother. With his tawny hair about his shoulders and his muscular frame pulled tight in barely restrained rage, his strength was evident.

"No." The enchantress shook her lovely head in sadness. "Perhaps once they might have. But he has tasted enchanted blood. No blade can harm him, no spear can pierce him. We have but one hope. You, Beast. "

He ignored the title and nodded in agreement.

"Tell me what must be done."

"You must finish what has started. The beast within must come forth. To defeat a creature you must become one."

Adam did not speak. The beast within? He felt the darkness rise throughout his body as his mind acknowledged the disturbing truth. The anger, the black spots in his memory. He saw again the dark beast breathe against his face as a babe. _What was he?_

"Can this be done?" he asked aloud.

"Yes, but it is not without risks. And you cannot do this alone. There is another." The enchantress gave a small hopeful smile.

"Another?" the prince gazed at her sharply. "Who?"

"You will know your savior when the time comes."

"My savior? From what? I don't understand."

The enchantress stepped forward and grasped him by his arms. The darkness within him pulled back and Adam had to force himself to remain still. "I cannot say much, or the spell will fail. But I will say this. Hold on to her, Beast, when the darkness begins to overtake you. Let her mind guide you. Let her goodness mend you. Let her remind you of your human self." The enchantress looked at him earnestly. "Are you ready?"

The prince nodded to her, then paused. "What will happen to my kingdom?"

"I cannot protect them all, but I can protect those within these walls. A spell, to hide them if danger comes to call. Never to see, ever to be. They will be transformed with you until the dark beast is defeated and your enchantment is broken. Now, you must prepare."

Adam stood, feet wide and arms crossed. The enchantress looked upon him noting the determined look on his gorgeous face and nodded.

Picking up her stick she smiled. "Find the savior, defeat the beast and have hope."

With this, she struck the stick to the ground and a burst of light hit the prince, knocking him backward. Sparks exploded around him, spreading across the room and down the hall, covering every inch of the castle with flashes. Then, as soon as it started, it stopped. There was nothing but darkness within the castle and the howling of wolves outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello Prince Adam, and hello beautiful readers! Welcome! This is a new twist on our favorite fairy tale. Hope it doesn't shock anyone too much! I have adored hearing your thoughts so far. To answer one of your questions, no this isn't a straight Gaston /Belle, or Belle/ Prince Adam story. You will have to stay with me to find out where this is going? Now, here's a question for you...what are your thoughts on our handsome Prince? Tell me and I promise nobody will turn you into a hairy beast!


	3. Like Gaston

Belle was odd. The provincial village of Vouvant had never seen her likeness, and neither had Gaston. With a wrinkled dress and a pencil shoved behind one ear, the girl looked almost wild. Gaston thrilled at the thought. He preferred wild things. He hunted them. The image of hunting this beautiful, strange, freckled girl made a smile spread across his handsome face.

Her brown locks were unbound and mad with spiral curls. _When brushed, _it shone like liquid amber down to her waist. Gaston had long desired to run his fingers through that hair. Today, though, his fingers would likely get caught in the tangles and even that possibility intrigued him.

An expectant look from Belle made him come back from his thoughts to the present._ What had she said? Something about a book she was writing. No reading. No…well never mind._

"You look lovely today, Belle." He said the first thought that came to mind.

Belle pointed a single eyebrow to express her doubt, but Gaston did not regret his words. Even with her tousled hair and her appearance disheveled, Belle was the loveliest girl he had ever seen. Sometimes it was all he could think about.

"Thank you, Gaston." She responded, following a pregnant pause.

"Now, you tell me I look handsome…" Gaston prompted with a wicked smile.

Belle blinked twice and looked away with a "humph" sound, but her cheeks were decidedly pinker. Gaston smirked in acknowledgment of the effect he had on her.

He pushed further.

"No? You don't find me handsome? Hmm, shall we ask a less biased observer?"

When he turned around in the busy square Gaston was met with many worshiping eyes. Belle was not the only girl who blushed under his gaze. Three girls, in particular, were never far away. For the most part, Gaston found their constant adoration vexing but today he was glad to discover them nearby. Following Gaston's stare, Belle's eyes widened.

"Gaston, don't you dare!" She ground out through clenched teeth and made a grab for his thick wrist. A jolt of lightning coursed down to his fingers and Gaston sucked in a silent breath. In a flash, he linked a reluctant Belle by the arm and strode over confidently.

"Ladies!" He called out with his most dimpled grin. "How goes the day?"

The triplets turned immediately from their conversations and beamed brightly up at Gaston. They spared no attention for Belle, who stopped pulling and lifted her chin. Gaston smiled even broader at her spirit.

"Better now, Gaston!" answered one of the girls. He couldn't exactly say which one it was. The triplets had no discernable physical difference, and try as he might, Gaston could never tell one from another.

"Yes, much better!" Purred the second.

"Much, much better!" The last female agreed as they pushed themselves closer to Gaston's heavy chest. Belle tilted away in response and Gaston tucked her closer to his side. This instinctual response earned a frown from both the sisters a_nd_ Belle. He chuckled lightly under his breath and pretended not to notice.

"Ladies, I still can't tell which one of you is the prettiest. Darned vexing too! I was just telling Belle, I think you are the best-looking girls in town!"

At this statement, the triplets went into such fits of squeals and sighs, Gaston was sure one of the fragile females would faint. Belle, on the other hand, simply lowered her lovely eyes and fought back a smile. Deciding it was time to interrupt, a determined Gaston went on.

"We were also having a hard time deciding on who is the finest fellow in town. Belle said she's taken a fancy to Jack, the miller's son. And I admit, he does have those dreamy blue eyes." Gaston paused and comically batted his lashes before chortling deeply.

"But I think we can do better than that!" He looked at the girls with arms spread wide and waited expectantly. The three women turned and stared at Belle with outraged expressions as she stepped away from Gaston's side.

"What's wrong with you?" Asked the first, pulling at her long blond ponytail.

"You're crazy!" Announced the second.

"He's gorgeous!" Spoke the third, leaning slightly and gazing dreamily at Gaston.

Belle flicked her eyes up at them innocently and asked in a dry tone, "The miller's son?"

Gaston laughed loudly and slapped his knee.

"Of course not, Belle. Gaston!" a triplet answered with wide, serious eyes.

"Who else?" Asked her sister, appearing to be genuinely confused.

"You are so odd!" The third triplet, _Bebe, _Gaston wondered,_ never mind, _stated decidedly as she regarded Belle with an incredulous look.

"Oh, Gaston!" Belle exclaimed in mock surprise. "Do you really find him handsome? Hmm...well I suppose he does have _some_ good qualities."

Gaston felt Belle's eyes pass over him and his flesh heated. Her teasing expression gently mocked him. Unafraid, he nodded for her to continue.

"He has a good head of hair. I'm _almost_ positive he won't go bald, though he spends so many hours combing it. Also, his boots are so shiny he could use them as a mirror, and _has_," Belle smiled innocently and paused for effect. "on multiple occasions."

The giant man crossed his arms over his broad chest and began to slowly rub his clean-shaven chin. His eyebrows raised at her words and he gave her an amused smirk.

"But alas," Belle continued with her hands clutched to her chest, "no matter how I might admire him, Gaston is not for me."

Belle stepped closer to the triplets and whispered behind her hand just loud enough for Gaston to hear, "I have heard tell that his heart belongs to another, and I am no match for her blonde beauty." The triplets gasped and reached their hands into their identical yellow hair.

Belle turned away from the excited twittering that followed. She placed a light hand on Gaston's shoulder and whispered quietly under her breath. "Good luck!"

Then she hurried down the lane to her little house on the hill.

Gaston's eyes followed her with unabashed adoration before turning back to the ladies fighting desperately to get his attention. Good luck indeed, he thought as he tried unsuccessfully to detach himself from the sisters for the next half hour. Belle had gotten the better of him and his odd little prey had escaped. He smiled to himself.

_This_ _time_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Well, here is your first meeting with Gaston in all his dimpled smirkiness! What are your thoughts? Do you prefer your bad boy with a wink and a smile, or would you rather have him be an all-out villain? As for the triplets, (whose names I had some fun with), I simply went for 17th century mean girls. I'm sure I've met a girl or two like them in my life, (though like Gaston, I couldn't tell them apart!). Let me know if you've met a Bebe in your past and you'll get a shiny boot as a reward!
> 
> Thank you all for reading-S.


	4. This Provincial Life

Magnificent trees lined the road to Belle's home. Their drooping branches dusted the red dirt below and moved elegantly with the breeze. As a child, Belle happily swung on the outstretched arms of the elms and chestnuts and escaped into stories of make-believe.

In her dreams, she was Tarzan the ape-boy or a pirate prisoner walking along the branches like a wooden plank.

Even as an adult, when the wind blew chilly and the trees beckoned for one more frolic, Belle could not deny them.

After tucking the hem of her skirt into her waist, Belle reached for the branch of a sweet chestnut tree and swung herself up. The small girl climbed with ease and grace. She quickly lay high above the earth, cradled on a rocking branch. Belle closed her eyes and wished the day away. Feeling the gentle sway of the limb beneath her, she allowed every image to drift from her mind.

All but one.

With a groan, Belle squeezed her eyes tighter but is face remained.

Gaston.

Belle tossed her arm over her face and tried to think of anything else.

_Anything._

_Anything at all_.

He was trapped inside her head. Images forced themselves into her mind of his cocky smile, his long dark hair, and his obnoxiously perfect features.

"Even the thought of him is pushy!" Belle grumbled under her arm as she gave up and just allowed herself to think of him.

_That maddening man! Why did he continue to treat her as though they were still in the schoolhouse?_

Belle flipped over and swung her leg over the side of the tree. She flattened her stomach against the branch and pressed her forehead to the bark.

A young Gaston flashed in her mind and Belle smiled despite herself.

The lad had been all elbows and knees. True, Gaston was always handsome, but it took a while for his height to match his feet and his biceps to match his hands. Belle laughed silently and shook her head, remembering his wiry frame.

_And he was so clumsy. _Poor Gaston was constantly tripping over or dropping things. _How many times had she bandaged a busted knuckle or cooled a bruised chin, _Belle wondered. He seemed to constantly be injured. It almost seemed as though he welcomed the struggles. Without fail, the boy would show up, laughing heartily, and turn to his friend for comfort and aid.

"Not that he deserved it. Hulking troll of a man!" Belle mumbled aloud, as she recalled her earlier irritation.

Suddenly, there was a rustling of leaves from the ground. Belle looked down in surprise and groaned. There was no way he hadn't seen her. Gaston saw everything, and he only made a sound if he wanted to be heard.

"Where?" His deep voice asked and Belle laid back down. It took her a moment to understand what he was asking, but when she did, she swung her arm out and pointed to the village.

"That way. Go get him," she instructed helpfully.

"I think not. Better I just stay here and wait for it to come back. I hear trolls like to climb trees."

Belle could hear the amusement in his voice, but she steadfastly held on to her frown. "Gaston, may I help you?" She asked, showing polite restraint.

Gaston chuckled lightly and leaned against a nearby trunk. His dark eyes twinkled and he shook his head in confusion.

"Help me? You're the one stuck in a tree."

"Not stuck," Belle muttered. Her voice sounded petulant and she refused to look down at Gaston. Instead, she simply closed her eyes and waited.

"Hiding then. But from whom would the lovely mademoiselle Belle be hiding? Certainly not some troll. She's too brave for that." Gaston picked up a stray branch from the ground and started swinging it at an imaginary foe.

"You are the only troll here, Gaston." Belle corrected looking down from her perch for the first time.

Gaston paused his mock duel and stared up at Belle with wide eyes. He clutched the stick to his chest as if struck. "You injure me, my lady. If I weren't positive this was just misdirected frustration..."

"_Misdirected_..." Belle sat up on her perch and swung her legs down. "Gaston, you are positively primeval."

"Why, thank you, Belle." Gaston smiled proudly and continued to swing his branch.

_Troll,_ Belle thought, even as she smiled over her shoulder where he couldn't see.

Gaston was confidence personified and that self-assured nature was come by honestly. There was no one in town, nor in the all the land, quite like Gaston.

In a village that thrived from the trade, no one shot like Gaston. His beautiful pelts were coveted world over, though his most magnificent work sat in a cupboard in Belle's tiny home.

The lovely white cloak with snow fox lining was given to her as a Christmas gift the year before and Belle had never worn it. The fur was _too_ perfect, much like the man, himself.

At almost seven feet tall, Gaston physically towered over other men. He dwarfed them in sport, strength, and capability as well. His looks were unparalleled, though Belle had long since stopped noticing them.

Looking down at Gaston again, Belle noted he had stopped his swinging. His wide back was curved and he rested an elbow on the stick. There was a shimmer in his eyes as he watched her, and she knew he was enjoying her absentmindedness.

"Where'd you go this time?" The giant man teased with a lopsided smile.

Belle squirmed on her perch. A soft pink color spread across her cheeks and a sheepish expression filled her eyes. Knowing full well she was caught boldly exploring his ridiculous _perfection,_ she avoided his question.

Instead, Belle hastily began scrambling down the tree with the least amount of elegance Gaston had ever seen her display. His amused laugh rang out as he reached up. His enormous hands slipped around her slender waist and he swung her easily to the ground.

When she was firmly before him, Gaston bent down and peered searchingly into her eyes. Belle quickly glanced away.

"Dear God, Belle, you look plain guilty." He exclaimed in pretend outrage.

Belle gazed up at him. Gaston's face was inches away and she stepped back. "I was um...just thinking of a book I need to return."

Gaston scoffed and bent to tug at her skirt. Belle sent him a questioning look before she realized he was assisting her with her twisted up apparel. When he pulled again the hem came loose of her waistband and she gave him a grateful look.

"Anything I'd like?" Gaston asked off-handedly. His sharp eyes examined the girl before him.

"A girl in a castle, a prince in disguise. _You_ would hate it." Belle laughed lightly and gently shoved his shoulder.

"Got that right." He responded, sounding distracted. Belle turned her back to him and made to leave. Gaston stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. His eyes searched hers and he flashed a dimpled smile.

"You look every inch the mad genius's daughter today, by the way. The hair alone…" Gaston moved his hand up and took a curl between his thick fingers. He gently rubbed a padded thumb across the silky strands. Belle watched Gaston's expression go from jovial to serious as he stared at her messy auburn curl. A muscle worked in his firm jaw and Belle swallowed.

"I know. I'm a spectacle. I have been wrestling with father's inventions all morning. I only came into town to order some dog-legged-clincher he needed." Belle hastily smoothed her hands down her wrinkled gown.

"Hmm...is that what it's called?" Gaston asked with a slight smile.

"Who knows? He's going to the fair tomorrow, you know. "

"Yes, and next stop world-famous inventor!" Gaston announced, watching Belle's face light up with pride and hope. Gaston's throat tightened and his fingers stilled on her hair. He opened his mouth to say something just as an earsplitting explosion rang from down the road. Smoke rose above the trees and birds flew in the opposite direction. The sound was coming from Belle's house.

"Papa!" Belle gasped and sprinted quickly down the road. Gaston barely heard her "goodbye" before he came out of his spell.

"Wait, do you need help?" Gaston called after the running female, but she was gone. The bewildered giant of a man was left standing in the road. Again.

* * *

Gaston rubbed the back of his neck with a trembling hand. Trembling? His hands never shook. He had the steadiest hands in the land. He blew out a heavy breath and shook his head.

_Something had to be done about this Belle situation._

He had tried twice to speak to her and twice they had been interrupted. Not again, Gaston resolved. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would go to her and confess his feelings for her.

A slow heat ran up his body as he thought of her response. He would propose and she would finally feel free to express her true desire.

He was certain she loved him. She had for years, ever since they were children together.

Such an odd, tiny girl. Belle never followed him the way the other girls did. She didn't flirt or touch him. She climbed trees and _talked_ to herself. Gaston smiled as he remembered those days when he would tease her relentlessly.

Even then, with her brown hair pulled into two ponytails instead of one and her nose continuously stuck in a book, she was the most amazing thing Gaston had ever seen.

He had forced her to notice him as a kid. He pulled those glistening amber locks and constantly stole her books. He'd much rather she look at him than some silly story, anyway.

Yes, _he_ would tease her, but he'd be damned if he let anyone else try! Many boys had lost a tooth prematurely thanks to his fists and an unwise word in front of the massive boy. He had the knuckle scars to prove it, though Belle never knew.

Gaston laughed silently as he remembered her pretty face pulled tight in a concerned expression as she bandaged his hands and scuffed knees. _How she scolded for his clumsiness!_

The girl was perplexing, but she took a place in his heart. It was a small place that could easily be filled by a little brother or a pet dog.

Then, eventually, she started spreading out. Without sign or warning, without his _permission_, Belle began to occupy the whole darn thing. There was no room left for anything else.

Belle conquered his heart and his mind. She challenged him. Infuriated him. She made him laugh like no other. She was his best friend. His future wife.

And tomorrow he would tell her and put them both out of their misery!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I hope you are all well during these difficult times. As we continue this story, I'll be posting a few chapters a week. I hope you enjoy. This site is so quiet, so please leave me a comment and let me know if anyone is out there! :)  
Thank you for reading, reviewing, and following! -S.


	5. Madam Gaston, Can You Just See It?

Belle awakened to the sounds of clanging metal and the occasional "Damn, damn, damn!" drifting through her open window.

She shook her head as she emerged from her bed and shrugged into her pale blue dressing gown. Wasting no time binding her riot of curls, she padded barefoot down the hall and straight to the back door. It stood wide open, swinging in the frosty air.

Belle shivered and clasped her robe closer around her before stepping into the cold. There, lying on the hard, frozen ground, was her father. A hodge-podge array of wood and rusted metal breathed laboriously above him, giving off puffs of smoke into the misty morning sky.

"Papa." The girl admonished in a disapproving tone, causing the little man to jump. "You promised!"

The inventor slid out from under his experiment and stared at his daughter sheepishly. His goggled eyes blinked as they fixed on Belle's face. Shakily, he moved to stand. A cracking sound followed as he straightened his curved back and groaned. Sensing her father's trouble, Belle rushed forward. Her naked feet dug into the earth as she steadied him with an arm about his shoulders. Maurice smiled at his daughter, gratefully patting her hand as they moved to the door.

"I know dear, but I couldn't wait. I think I've done it! Look at her! Isn't she a beauty?" Her father paused on the steps and turned to stare at his invention. Still huffing, it gave a giant clunking sound, a gurgle, and then went quiet.

"It's supposed to do that." insisted the man.

Belle smiled and turned him back to the house. "It's amazing, Papa. You are going to be the hit of the fair. But you should have awakened me. After the fire yesterday…" she began.

"Why, I was barely singed." Her father protested as she led him indoors and moved him to sit by the fire. The small cottage was still cold from the long night and Belle shivered as she grabbed a thick flannel blanket to wrap around her father's frame. Then she turned and began preparing water for his tea.

"_Barely_ is bad enough, Papa." Belle readied his drink and handed it to him carefully. She sat on the worn and shabby seat across from him, tucking her frozen feet beneath her. "What would I do if something happened to you?" she asked quietly.

Maurice turned to his daughter. The girl was too small, all folded into her chair. With her big hazel eyes and long curls draped heavily about her shoulders, she still looked like a child, not a woman of eighteen. And yet Maurice knew that she hadn't been a child for years. Not since her mother had passed away. Sadness, still new even after eight years, engulfed him and he sighed deeply.

"My girl, _that_ is something we must discuss."

Belle sat up and placed her feet flat on the ground. "What must we discuss?" She felt the panic rise up her spine and her face went pale.

The old man chuckled and reached a hand to grab hers gently. "Now, now. I'm not saying anything will happen to me. I'm healthy as old Philippe out there. But the time is coming when you will want your own home. A husband. Perhaps even a dog or two." Her papa smiled teasingly.

Belle looked at her father in disbelief. _What could he be thinking?_ She pulled her hand from his and stood. Without thought, she began pacing back and forth upon the worn braided rug in front of the fire.

"But Papa, I love our home. I'm happy as we are." Belle grabbed a spoke and began bothering the fire logs which were already burning admirably.

Sensing her discomfort, Maurice tried a different approach. After taking a long gulp of his beverage, he began slyly.

"That Gaston is a handsome fellow."

Belle's arm jerked up from the fire suddenly, causing sparks to fly from the pit and land on the brick and mortar surrounding it. Soot shot forward from the flames. Belatedly she stepped back and began shaking the skirt of her robe.

"Singed, dear?" her father laughed and grinned at the glare from his daughter.

"Funny." Belle answered breathlessly.

Her father continued on as if there had been no interruption. "He's got some good land too. Fine horses."

"Papa, please. Gaston is my friend, not my suitor. Where would you even get such an idea?"

"A man would have to be blind not to see how the boy cares for you." Maurice insisted, unaware that he still sported his thick goggles. Reaching forward with a giggle, Belle removed his clunky frames and folded them in her hand.

"Well that explains it, then." she teased and handed him his spectacles.

Belle's light laugh did not fool her father. He noticed the nervous way she tugged at her curls and sighed.

"He could take care of you, Belle, offer you a better life." The inventor paused and pushed back a stray curl from her forehead. "You can't waste away your youth on me, girl. It's not what I want for you. It's not what your mother would have wanted." Maurice blinked rapidly and cleared a lump from his throat. "Besides, aren't all the girls mad for him?"

"Yes." Belle nodded absently and went to stand by an open window. "Papa, even if he did care in that way, and he _definitely_ does not, he's not for me. We want different things. Can you see me spending the rest of my life darning his socks, cleaning his game? Having his," Belle paused, blushing deeply, and began to twist her long hair over her shoulder absently, "his children." she completed with difficulty.

"I want more from this life, Papa. There has to be more."

Her father watched as she stared out the window, going to the places in her mind that she so often wandered to. He knew then that the boy had lost her and no matter what, Belle would never look at Gaston the way she gazed after the adventures in her dreams. Shaking his head sadly Maurice sighed.

"Of course there is, my girl. Of course, there is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are off again! Shall we see what Gaston has up his tight sleeves? Can you guess, brilliant readers? Send me your thoughts or opinions of Belle's sweet papa and I'll personally wrap you in a flannel blanket. As always thanks for reading, reviewing, kudos, and following. -S.


	6. Be Still My Heart, I'm Hardly Breathing

Gaston had not been this excited since the day he stalked his first buck.

Even as a grown man, he still recalled the thrill of that early morning. He could taste the mist on his lips, feel the arrow sliding between his fingers as he freed it from its quiver and pulled it back with his bow. He could see the animal standing solemnly in the grove. It was silent and surrounded by trees that hung heavy with dew. It was a proud prize.

He heard it inhale and exhale deeply, once. Just once. Then his arrow flew and the beast dropped down. The young boy had been filled with many emotions. Exultation, pride, relief, all these overwhelmed his body. He had supplied food for his mother, skins for his father, and respect for himself. It had been a good day.

_Today would be even better_.

Dressed in his finest garbs, Gaston knew he looked his best. As he strode down the slick dirt road, he nodded at the passing ladies. He watched their appreciative female eyes sparkle and their hands move to their chests. The large man chuckled to himself and shook his head. There was only one girl he wanted to impress this day.

"Hey Gaston, wait up. What's the joke?" Asked a eager voice behind him.

Swinging around, Gaston looked down at his old friend LeFou. The short, round man struggled to match his stride and Gaston slowed down just a bit.

"No joke, old buddy. Just enjoying my morning. Stunning isn't it?"

LeFou shivered in response and snuggled deeper in his oversized coat. His curly brown hair swung over his ears and his face all but disappeared in his collar.

Gaston laughed again and slapped him on the back. "Well, maybe it's just me."

LeFou looked at his friend and decided that he was enjoying more than just the weather. He seemed almost chipper, if you could call a man that size such a thing. In fact, he had only once ever seen Gaston so animated and they had known each other since they were toddlers.

The boys learned to walk together. They learned to speak together. And until Gaston grew to be two feet taller than him, they had learned to wrestle together, too. They were as familiar as two friends could be, so it didn't take long for LeFou to guess what was behind his pal's good humor.

"Going to get Belle, ain't ya?" LeFou asked matter-of-factly.

Gaston couldn't hold back his mirth as he placed an arm around the smaller man's shoulders with a grinning nod.

"Bout time," LeFou remarked boldly, as only he was allowed.

"Yes, it is," Gaston growled, his hunger and excitement obvious in his shining eyes.

LeFou sighed and shook his head. His red tipped nose wrinkled up slightly over the button of his collar. "Gonna break a lot of hearts…"

"They'll get over it. More for you, my friend!" Gaston shoved him. "Besides, what do I care for them, when Belle is mine?" he smiled roguishly.

LeFou stopped walking suddenly and grabbed for Gaston, forcing him to pause with an impatient grunt. Lefou's heavily gloved mitts grasped around a thick bicep and the small man breathed in as he carefully chose his words.

"What is it, LeFou?"

"Belle's nice and all but are you sure _she's _the one?" he asked hesitantly. Lefou knew he was walking on fire by even asking.

_How many boys had he seen Gaston pummel growing up?_

_Too many._

He knew talking about Belle was a deal breaker, but he pushed forward anyway, ignoring the voice in his head that told him to shut up and the dangerous look filling Gaston's rich brown eyes.

"What do you mean?" Gaston asked quietly.

"Now Gaston, don't look at me that way. " The little man pleaded with his hands held up. "I'm just sayin', you could have your pick of girls. Or you could have _all_ of them. Why settle for Belle? She ain't that special. In fact, she's kinda strange if you ask…"

LeFou didn't see it coming. The fist was thrust forward so quickly it made contact and knocked him down before he knew he was hit. The befuddled man sat on his backside and rubbed his aching jaw.

"I held back. I won't again, _old pal_." Gaston turned to walk away, his mood decidedly darker.

"You won't be needing to." LeFou mumbled in agreement from his spot in the dirt. He called after the departing man "She_ is_ real pretty. I'll give you that!"

Gaston shook his head without looking back.

_Pretty?_ The man was a fool. _Belle was the most beautiful girl in the world_.

* * *

Belle watched from the porch as her father rode away, pulling his hitched wagon behind him. The clinking metal traveled with him and Belle waved until no longer heard the sound. The girl placed her hands inside the pockets of her newly donned cornflower blue dress and sat on the wood steps in silence.

It would be so quiet without her father. She would miss how the house filled with his mechanical cacophonies and lively conversation. She would miss him tasting everything she cooked for him while she prepared it, then never being hungry for dinner. She would miss every bit of his strange and unique madness.

The cold seemed to creep up on her. Belle stood to go indoors just as the sound of whistling reached her ears. At first, she thought her father had returned, but she quickly spotted the man on the road.

Heading her way was a very determined, a very distinguished looking, Gaston.

Reflexively, Belle pushed a stray curl back into her loosely tied ponytail and stepped back toward the door. After the talk with her father that morning, Gaston was the last person she wanted to see.

It was no use. He spotted her instantly. It was almost as if he could sense her presence. Gaston waved wide and began to jog easily towards her.

Even at a distance, Belle could see he was dressed abnormally fine. _He must be heading somewhere important, _she thought to herself_,_ breathing a sigh of relief. Perhaps he would dispatch with the expected pleasantries quickly and be on his way. She pasted a smile on her face and waved back.

"Bonjour, Gaston." She called when he was within hearing distance. Then, almost in an instant, he was in front of her. _He doesn't even have the decency of being out of breath_, she thought to herself grudgingly. He really _was_ perfect.

Gaston smiled up at her with barely controlled enthusiasm.

"Morning, Belle. What are you doing out here without your cloak? You'll freeze." He shrugged out of his own fur-lined coat and draped it around her before she had the chance to protest. It was warm from his body and smelled of soap and fresh open air. It smelled like Gaston.

Belle suddenly felt flush and pulled it off, hurriedly handing it back. "I'm fine, Gaston. In fact, I was just going inside."

Gaston grinned mischievously and grabbed her arm, escorting her to the door. Belatedly Belle realized that he had taken her words as an invitation.

"What a grand idea! I wouldn't mind warming my feet by the fire."

Before she knew it, they were both in the house. Gaston had hung his coat by the door and planted himself in a seat by the warm hearth.

"Make yourself at home, you big..." Belle began mumbling to herself before turning to her smiling friend. "Gaston, my father isn't home. He's gone to the fair. Perhaps you should..."

Gaston surprised her by standing and going to look out the window to where her father usually kept his wagon. "Drat. I was hoping to speak with him too. Guess we can just tell him together when he returns." Gaston turned and looked at a delightfully confused Belle.

"Tell him what?"

Gaston raised a brow and gave her his famous smirk. Belle watched as he strode toward her. To her amazement, he bent his great form and placed both hands on either side of her face. He moved closer to her.

His brown eyes burned into hers for a moment, then they fell closed as his lips touched hers.

The kiss was gentle. Gaston pursued her with the restraint of a practiced hunter. His mouth softly grazed her own, barely allowing it to rest for a moment before pulling away. Belle kept her eyes tightly shut. She felt his warm breath on her face as she pulled in her bottom lip. It tasted of mint.

Belle released the shaky breath she was holding and pressed her palm to his chest. She felt his flesh heat at her touch and finally looked up into his eyes. Her heart jolted at the fierceness of his stare.

* * *

He was lost.

His massive hands moved into the magnificent curls of her hair, pulling her closer to him. He drank of her deeply. His mouth moved over hers, marveling in the perfect fullness of her bottom lip and the feel of her warm breath against his skin.

She was flawless, divine. She was beyond beautiful. Never had he wanted anything in his life as he did her. She was his.

He branded her with his touch, with his lips and tongue. He parted the corners of her mouth and for a moment deepened the kiss. His blood roared like a river as she melted into his powerful arms. His heart pounded beneath her fingertips. For her, always for her.

He drew her closer, engulfing her in his heat. Her tiny frame molded against his chest as he lifted her slightly from the ground. She made a small sound when he left her lips and moved to her cheek, her throat. Her skin was impossibly soft and he ached to taste all of her.

Then he noticed the gentle pressure on his shoulders. She wasn't pulling him closer but pushing him away. He lifted his head with difficulty and opened lids heavy with desire. She was staring at him with wide eyes and swollen lips. Her hair had come loose and was tangled from his fingers. He had never seen her look more tempting. He dropped his head again but to his vast disappointment, he found her stepping back.

"Gaston," she whispered weakly "what are you doing?"

Gaston eyed her with frustrated adoration and ran a hand through his long dark hair.

"Currently?" He asked, his expression teasingly intimate. "Not what I'd like to be doing." Then, with a sinful look, he moved to reach for her.

Belle held her hands up and stopped him.

Gaston laughed at her innocence and folded his arms across his chest. "Belle, it's fine for engaged folks to kiss. Expected even."

Belle's eyes filled with confusion and she shook her head as if to clear it. Then realization came over her and an expression Gaston had not expected filled her magnificent hazel gaze.

_By god, was she upset_? _No. Impossible._

But, if he didn't know better, he would guess she was. In fact, from that look, he would wager she was furious!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, readers, how about that kiss? Is it hot in here or is it just Gaston?! Let me know your thoughts on these recent, um, developments, and I'll send a sexy hunter your way. As always, thanks for reading, reviewing, Kudo's and bookmarking! -S.


End file.
